


You cleaned the mess from my head

by Equinoxe



Series: I never thought about love when I thought about home [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Equinoxe/pseuds/Equinoxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saturdays were somehow one of the less active days for international security threats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You cleaned the mess from my head

**Author's Note:**

> This week prompt is _"Make me disappear"_. I probably should have said this from the start that each entry in the series wouldn't be in chronological order. My apology. All mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoy!

.

 

Saturdays were somehow one of the less active days for international security threats. Bond had most of his day-off’s on Saturday, as he often found himself having his first coffee in the balcony. The flat’s view overlooked a bridge across the Thames.

 

Today was more or less the same.

 

Joggers occasionally ran through the path along the river bank. The sun was out despite the crisp winds. Bond watched and watched until he emptied his cup.

 

It would take at least another two hours before Q woke up. He stretched and picked up his book, he could use some lazy days.

 

.

 

Q didn’t normally sleep. But when he did, he slept a lot. His sleep lasted half a day at least, and he would wake up disoriented from too much sleeping. Bond noticed this the fifth time he did so, it was incredulous he could still count the times Q slept on his hand fingers.

 

“Good morning sleepyhead.” James said mockingly, voice way too fond than he’d admit.

 

He got silence for an answer. Q flopped himself down the couch and looked as if he was going back to sleep. James got up from where he was sitting and went to the kitchen. No more than twenty minutes later, he returned with two dishes of pasta.

 

“Q, have lunch with me.” James nudged the guy to sit upright. Q slowly rose, his eyes adjusting to the room’s brightness.

 

“James,” his voice cracked, then he blinked again, “you’re home.” He greeted with a pleased smile.

 

Bond couldn’t help but ruffling his hair and warned, “Be careful, it’s still hot.”

 

Q nodded weakly and took a small bit of the food while James internally sighed, this version of Q was doing something really funny with his protective instinct.

 

.

 

They would watch TV afterwards to help Q gaining his senses back. But James got no interest in TV, so he read, or sat there and waited, or both. Q would make his own tea after, but a cuppa when he wasn’t fully awake proved to be very dangerous, as Bond learnt one time.

 

“Yesterday,” Q began a conversation. “There was this competition which had been going on for weeks,” He continued in smooth voice, each sentence being more and more awake. It had been their _thing_ ; after Q regained his energy he would tell Bond what had he been doing in the past week or two. Normally it made zero sense to Bond, but he sat there and let the words flow through his ears.

 

For some reasons Q wanted to tell him about his work and hobbies, and Bond wouldn’t mind hearing although he had no idea what was being talked about. Sometimes James wished that he had been someone else, that he could tell Q about funny stories from his work, and make fun of his annoying coworkers.

 

Sometimes James wished they had met under a better circumstance, but when he thought about it, he wouldn’t trade _this_ for the world.

 

.

 

One Saturday they fell asleep while binge watching The Office. James was jolted awake by the vibration of his phone. Only when he finished reading about the upcoming mission did he realise they fell asleep cuddling on the sofa.

 

Bond got his hand over Q’s shoulder while the younger man was leaning into him slightly, warm breath on his chest. Q, who slept once in a blue moon, was fast asleep.

 

Bond looked at his wristwatch, the Quartermaster needed him at MI6 in an hour. If he sped, he could get there in twenty. So he closed his eyes and sat in the silence for a while.

 

He left a note for Q on the coffee table saying he’d better sleep like normal people did.

 

.

 

The mission dragged for _weeks_.

 

Bond travelled to a city in Bolivia, then drove all the way to Buenos Aires. He killed 38 people, and almost got killed three times, with the last one being almost drowned the Plata River. By the time the mission started to get wrapped up, he was almost fluent in Spanish dialect.

 

One night in Bolivian border, he had to slit the guard’s throat to keep things quiet. He remembered looking at himself in the mirror of the guard’s room after that, he looked like someone had painting him red.

 

Bond didn’t mind killing, not anymore, but sometimes it still surprised him how easy it was to end someone’s life, and how often he did that.

 

He caught a flight from Buenos Aires airport. M must have taken some pity on him, because it was on first class. He flaunted MI6’s credit card like crazy the last day he was there, even bought some silly chocolates in the store. He felt he deserved some treats after such long mission.

 

He flew back in an impeccable suit, with a bottle of exotic liquor, and a lot of useless stuffs he bought because he could.

 

.

 

Turned out Bond had been gone for two and a half months.

 

M gave him a look when he showed up at MI6 but didn’t say anything. He gathered she saw his credit card record and smirked, he considered that his small revenge. He brought back the microchip as the Quartermaster had requested. (He needed to ask Q some time did people really use microchips these days.) His lack of returning equipment was uncommented. It was a long mission. Everyone went easy on him.

 

Two and a half months was a long time. The thought that he spent one fifth of a year in that stupid mission made him cringe. However, MI6 could send him on another mission tomorrow as far as he knew. He was just a pawn on the board.

 

Things were like this working for The Queen and The Country. There was no rest, no going back, no backing down. You could only go forward, keep killing, keep staying alive, then keep going on mission after mission after mission. Bond had been doing it for so long, had been 007 for so long that he couldn’t remember being anything else.

 

There were three known organisations and three independent parties who had put prices to his head. People were out there to get double-oh-seven’s blood. Double-oh-seven was out there to get people’s blood. It was the game they played.

 

Generally, he loved the game.

 

But it could get very exhausting sometimes.

 

 

But then again, he could just enter the security code and twist the handle.

 

“James! You’re back!”

 

And watch how those eyes shone in the light.

 

 

 

And make 007 _disappear_.

 

 


End file.
